How to Make Indiana Jones V; Dazed and Confused Update

Frank Marshall, who was probably the most whip-cracking producer on the set of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, tells British movie rag Empire that the team is gearing up to make a fifth installment in the cliffhanger series. This bit of news is nicely in keeping with a bloggy hunch that appeared on this site about a year and a half ago. Marshall says no script is in place — but, I ask you, when has that ever stopped a real man from making a motion picture?

Now the fans can start moaning. To you and me and Chester down the block, the whole Indiana Jones series is not much more than a pleasant way to spend some time in a dark theater with a monster bucket of popcorn giving you a salty lapdance as you drink in some chases and maybe a little fright or two from the screen. But for certain other moviegoers, the Indy franchise is the Holy Bible. You think Trekkies are bad? Trekkies are well-adjusted people compared with some of these Indy freaks. I mean, look how well the Trekkies took it, when J.J. Abrams de-nerdified the franchise with this summer’s big re-boot.

If you know my resume, then you are aware that the Bobster knows a thing or two about making pictures. I’m the guy (not braggin’, just statin’ the facts) who persuaded my man Warren Beatty to use the album Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band (maybe you’ve heard of it?) as the aural backdrop for that lovely L.A. party scene that more or less tethers Shampoo to the known universe (as opposed to the candied locale that exists only in Warren’s head). After getting him to agree that this was the way to go, boy, then the fun really began, when I had to score the rights from Apple. You haven’t really conducted business until you’ve dealt with a Brit lawyer! Anyhoots, all’s I’m saying is, I have a coupla pointers for the Indiana Jones posse, which, of course, includes George Lucas, Steven Spielberg, Harrison Ford, and Shia “Don’t Call Me Sleepy” LaBoeuf.

Tip No. 1: Kill Indiana Jones! That’s right. I’m not kidding, either. At the 45-minute mark, make it so that Harrison Ford takes a tumble off a cliff — and never comes back! No fake death. No trickery. I’m talking the real thing, with the spookiness, and the majesty, and the inevitability, and, most important, the irreversability! From that point on, people, the franchise belongs to Shia (for better or for worse). Furthermore, Harrison’s signature character gets to go out the way he came in — going balls out! (What, you want him to kick in a nursing home in 1962? Puh-leeze! He’s got to buy it big time!)

Tip No. 2: Before Indy takes that tumble into the great and cobwebby beyond, you got to have Shia’s character formally take on Jones as his last name. At this point, I believe, his moniker is Mutt Ravenwood, or something like that. So, if you do it my way, the Shia character’s real name will henceforth be Jones. And then? Somebody in the picture can just tag him with his papa’s old nickname of Indiana (David Koepp can come up with some plausible reason, I’m sure), and the franchise can continue without having to change its mucho bankable title.

Tip No. 3: That’s it. I have no more. Just the two. Everything doesn’t have to come in a set of three.

Dazed and Forgotten

Got another little item for ya, after my big vacation to the Grand Canyon. (It’s still there, folks. BTW, didja miss me? I know I missed all you cranky commenters — but listen up, try to keep it a little more polite down there. And let’s cut this “FIRST” foolishness. Bob knows you’re there, people.) Jason London, who played Randall “Pink” Floyd in Dazed and Confused, did such a bang-up job in that teens-coming-of-age-against-a-backdrop-of-Texas-style-hazing,-football,-hanging out,-drugs-’n’-sex flick. But where is he now? It’s something I’ve often wondered. Seems like nobody knows, except for the New York Daily News, which has a big fat update, with more than 18 clickety-click Internet screens, to give you the skinny on Monsieur London and all his fellow Dazed and Confused-ers, including my favorite guy of all time, Matt “Don’t Touch My Bongo” McConaughey.